


Into the Inferno

by AnneKing



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Azulon Being a Good Yet Questionable Grandfather, Dark, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Fluff, Fire Nation Royal Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Spirit Shenanigans, This is only the beginning, Warning will be in chapters, but it will come later, going to screw up canon but not much, slow burn redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneKing/pseuds/AnneKing
Summary: Zuko knows he was born unlucky, and his luck apparently run out the moment he was born. He is outcasted by both his father and sister. He sees visions of the world will burning, dying people turn into monsters but the real question is: Will he stop his imperialist family or will he burn as well.Also known as Grandfather cares too much and Zuko ain't having it
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azulon & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 102
Kudos: 361





	1. Chapter 1

It was a moonless night, Azulon walked through the gardens with a smile on his face. The palace was filled with illuminating candles due to the early birth. The guards stationed at the hallway looked nervous and wide eyed at the Fire Lords mood, with fear painted on their being. Although their faces are masked, the body language made an accurate read. Tense and feet shuffling, with fingers twitching in hesitance. Azulon gave them a sharp grin with pointed teeth. The guard took a step back at that. Their trepidation is most welcome. They are not paid to witness such a happy moment. Even though the light has gone out, a new life is going to emerge. The elder has a new grandchild to take the throne, and he is ecstatic.

Will he or she be a powerful firebender? A prodigy such as him? Perhaps if he is a boy, he will name him after his dearest father, (or knowing his son, he’ll probably try to suck up to him by titling him, his name. Such a fool, no one will take his place) but May Agni rest his father's soul. Although Azulon pondered, he didn’t want the boy to be a bitter one lamenting on regrets.

Will be such a waste of a life to take.

Despite this cursed thought, there is something in his old bones that tell him this won’t be an unfruitful endeavor. Ozai tends to make haste actions instead of waiting for the right moment to strike, and the possibility that will go with the “spark in the eyes” strategy. Sometimes those who seem unlikely, can become the most worthy. A dragon must have eternal patience for the fruit to bear, yet the bearing is sweet.

He approached the west wing, where a mother's cries of pain rang across the hallway, a scuffle of handmaidens flocked to and fro the room housing Ursa and her soon to be born child. Entering the threshold, his gaze met Iroh, who was calmly sitting with tea on his lap next to Lu Ten who was tapping his fingers on his leg anxiously, flickering to the door to the nursery, to his father and himself.

The boy should really stop fidgeting, its most unbecoming of royalty.

But he is a child, he even tried to sneak into the birthing house. A frowned upon decision that resulted in a scolding from both his father and grandfather, and extended training. The old Fire Lord smiled at the memory, to be young and brash. Patience is a hard lesson to learn for a 10 year old.

The two bowed in unison. The tradition carries on with father and son, although there is one that did not welcome the high presence. Ozai pacing near the door, eyes cold, back sharp and rigid, obvious towards his esteemed father. Whether it was concern for his family, or the anxiousness of having a child, Azulon can not say but a good father should be aware of his surroundings. And that the crying has evolved from a woman to the wails newborn babe. For a single painstakingly long moment, Azulon let his constant guard down. Nothing can go wrong. It never ceases to amaze him of the unpredictability of something going wrong and it did. It went horribly wrong. 

The cries of life have stopped abruptly. An uncomfortable silence loomed over, a silent noose around their necks. A dislocated hush fell for too long.

Then the guttural screams pierced through the wretched silence.

The other two have noticed, and Ozai broke out of revenue all standing still as though movement can cause a misfortune with apprehension with a spark of fear. Even Azulon flexed his fingers, the need to burst in and tear something apart came over him. LuTen looked on the verge of tears, with Iroh grounding and comforting his son. Iroh had an unknown expression on his face.

Dread settled in, and Azulon was taken back to a bloodied room with too much blood. There's far too much blood. Too much blood for a person to let out. With Ilahs tears mixing in with the red in her hands, too much red…

The wails of the babe started.

As the doorway opened, with the greying nurse entering the threshold and bowing to the group nearby.

“Fire Lord Azulon, Prince Ozai.” The nurse was smiling with a being glean in her eye. During other days it would be unbecoming of servants show but soft emotions, especially to those who would never never be quite hesitant to lunge with pure malice in their minds to reap rewards. But the old Fire Lord was feeling generous today, she’ll go without warning. For now. “It's a boy.” Relief flooded the room. Azulon released a breath with licks of fire fanning his face. As if she hadn't delivered the shocking news of this day the nurse turned back into the birthing room with Azulon at her heels followed by his two sons and grandchild.

They were greeted by the nurses carrying bloodied towels and blankets, with water baskets, cleaning up the room. All the nurses bowed and walked out of the space for much needed privacy for the royal family. to Ursa, who was smiling brightly with exhaustion tugging at her eyes. Dried tears on the edges of her faces but he was drawn toward the soft coos in her arms. He was a small, pale thing squirming in his mother's grasp, already a fighter. But small and frankly pathetic. Then again, aren’t all of the younger generation worrsome? With soft breaths escaping the newborns lips, someone has to keep a close eye on him.

But a tiny cub. Oh, isn’t that just precious.

Maybe it was a sign from a Agni, but he has no doubt that the child will be cherished and protected. And by his two loving parents.

Ozai looked at the newborn with contempt.

“He is too weak,” the words were piercing,”he can not be a worthy heir. Father, I will rid of this thing away from your sight.”

Of course that train of thought is blown away by Ozais foolishness. Patience is a bitter taste, but it’s fruit is sweet. How had he survived so long during his reign of FireLord if he didn’t wait. His father had no vision, no finesse to lead the war effort, but Azulon had the skill and opportunity; just to eat up the patience and it will be so worth it. The sickly sweet mess of victory is perhaps the taste he won’t forget. But apparently he forgot to teach that lesson towards his youngest. 

Such a shame. 

Azulon chose not say anything, but he held up a hand. He was in control, not Ozai

He was examining the child, a calculating look with wonder? The child has survived the coldest of nights yet he hears the cries of a dragon. The fruit does bear the sweetest giving. There he made his judgement.

“The child will be blessed with the sun's light tomorrow.” Azulon declared. It was to be done and his word is law. “It will be at dawn, but since Ozai lost the privilege to name the child, what is the boy's name Ursa?” 

No one in the room replied except Ozais sputtering. Ursa’s mouth was parted in shock. Eyes widened at the thought of naming the cub. Of course, not that she knew this but Azulon had other plans. The lady just didn’t know it yet. Plans have a high success rate if people don’t question you. 

“Zuko.” A small voice answered, Ursa softly smiled in maternal joy. The joy of motherhood, the future of having the greatest blessing in the Fire Nation (just like Lu Tens birth, he wondered if Ilah would have the same expression as a grandmother if she were alive today. He knew beyond a doubt, she would lift the child off Ursas arms and playfully spun the newly named Zuko around her. With gentleness and care he have experienced first hand. With Iroh, Ozai and himself when the days get too long and he just couldn’t take it anymore. Looking back at the pure moment in times long gone, it nonetheless made him smile. “His name will be Zuko.”

Ozai needs to learn some patience.

As if the child has heard his degree, he is met with the molten gold of past Fire Lords. Swirling like twin infernos of the sun. Unlike his father and the father before him. Not even he has the gold eyes of the sun.

His Little Sun.

The child smiled at him, and like his internal namesake (of which Azulon will kill anyone who figured out the nickname he gave his grandchild), was brightly lighting up the room, in his old eyes.

With a grin that held sharp teeth, he returned that smile holding secret promises.


	2. Of Nightmares and Tea Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a switch between Zukos and Azulons POV. Gonna make Zuko have some freaky ass dreams. Cause some pain. You know the usual. Some family fluffiness 
> 
> The dragons symbolism, and family ancestry. TW this has disturbing imagery, scenes of burning and death, a mention of suicide.

**_8 years later_ **

_ Screams rang out through the air. The smell of decay filled with the smoke which had tasted metallic together. The source of the screams was of a white dragon leering down at The Royal Caldera. Claws digging into the dormant volcano carter, surrounding high and mighty as if it were a throne. No one can get in or out. _

_ Its breath smelled of death. Zuko gagged but he couldn't throw up. His throat is closed. He can’t throw up or the blood will go down the throat of the white dragon. He eats, never satisfied. The fire from his maw dripped down onto the Caldera, the Fire burns, until there is nothing, it hurts.  _

_ The smell turned to peselitence for extended suffering for ones who claim and hoard, those who like to  _ **_burn_ ** _. People wasting away gaping mouths open, eyes glowing red, boney fingers of the grave grasping at life but not having mercy. _

_ The dragon peered down at him peremptorily.  _

_ The dragon was gnawing at the bones and limbs, while the people were still alive. The silent screams can still be heard. _

_ Where's the mercy?  _ He wondered.

_ Nowhere to be seen. What is the true meaning of mercy? Death? Look at what is here, there are other ways of mercy. Come, be enlightened in the fire, child. _

_ But the Flames… It will consume and devour.  _

_ Yet it will release you. _

_ What will you eat if we are all gone.  _ He asked the dragon.

_ The Ashes of the Fallen. A sicily sweet response, with a smile of bone and human limbs of  _ **_The Children of Agni_ ** _ , spread on his face.  _

.

Zuko woke up with a sharp inhale and a suppressed gag. Cold sweat broke down, he had tears in his eyes, blurring his vision. He wants his mom, to be in the safety of her arms, where its warm and not hot but he was in bed, covered in red sheets, like the gleaming, hungry red eyes of the-

No! Shaking his head from side to side to expel the thoughts, but the burning eyes glowed in the darkness underneath his eyes. They were of vengeful spirits, and-

He got off the bed, sniffling. Breathe in ( _ the screams), _ breath out _ (fire roaring) _ . The vestiges of his dreams were fading from his mind but it was becoming too real and scary for the eight year old. He dreamt of fire and dragons. The kinds that burned villages and kidnapped little princes like in Grandfather's stories. But the dragons are gone, Uncle killed the last ones.  _ Grandfather wanted to get rid of the competition _ . They are dead and gone ( _ just like the Air Nation _ ) and there was nothing but bones and ashes. He was okay, he was home. Nothing was on fire. No dragons with the stench of decay and the agonizing breath of smoke. 

He peered out his room with the tears, being wiped away. Warily, he stood by the door; the hallways felt cold without the torches being it, so empty and wrong. Gold decorations didn’t shimmer, silver took its place. The warmth was sucked away leaving a chilling husk but the moonlight gave enough light to illuminate where he was going. A looming figure stood on the side. Fear stabbed his chest. Hot water flowed through his eyes.

What would father say if he saw the wet tears, no he won't say anything, he would try with hurtful words and fire.

No, he is not going to bother Father with his cries.

But it's still cold  _ (Like Azula's fire so hot that it's cold). _

“Prince Zuko.” He flinched, but he did turn to the higher authority.

Like a good prince. 

_ So Father doesn’t yell at him. _

But it wasn't Fathers. It wasn’t booming with power.

Father's voice doesn’t have smooth hiss filled with the subtle threat of venom.

The venom not being towards him at least.

He usually hears that voice, when Lu Ten was here, but he never gets used to it. His grandfather's aged voice is more soothing when he tells the old stories, whenever he has the time, when father was  _ not here _ . Untroubled memories of being on Grandfather's lap, his robes irradiating warmth, with Azula playing on Lu Tens legs, being a happy babbling 3 years old before the fake smiles ( _ the pain of flames _ ) and Father's favor. 

The Fire Lord was an imposing man, although withered with age, he is as strong as they come. Handsome features tuned sharp, burning embers of eyes piercing, never dulled. White hair framed astute, deceptively cleaned. Red robes flowed down, making a spectre of the moonlight. An  _ onryō,  _ as the stories will call it. 

‘Vengeful Ghosts’. 

Dangerous and wrathful.  _ Like the ones in- _

“Fire Lord Azulon.” Zuko bowed low and said the title. Always respect your ancestors and your Lord. He must never forget. Father drilled that into him. Normally, he would call him an honored grandfather or just the last word but Father forbade it, telling him that it was dishonorable to call the _ Fire Lord _ just ‘grandfather’ and seeing as how it was late and he wasn’t in bed during curfew... It was best to be on the safe side. 

“Grandson, it is late. Why are you out of bed?” His face was... disappointed? That's weird. But Zuko knew he was the disappointment, always have, always will.

Zuko lowered his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep.” It came out as a whisper. An understatement, but he couldn't bother anyone with his problems. He wasn’t a child to be coddled.

“Zuko. Look at me.”A soft, yet firm command. He didn’t like that tone. It was just like Fathers before he hurt him. For not being good enough. He is a disappointment to his family. Not good enough for Father. He lifted his head with only an inch.

The eight year old felt a finger under his chin, lifting him to see eye to eye with more of the Fire Lords gaze. He was scared, trembling beneath withered claws. As he peered up towards eyes of burning flames. He closed his eyes, accepting whatever punishment dished out to him. 

He didn’t expect to be gently lifted up into his grandfather's arms. He was surprised but he clung to him, refusing to be let go. He tucked his face underneath Grandfather's chin. It felt nice to be in someone else's arms, to be small enough to be held. For just a moment… He imagined it to be Father's hold.

……………………………

Azulon doesn’t sleep. So he wanders the halls, usually to make a cup of tea for himself. Too much work to be done in a short amount of time. Nearly 100 years of war needs to be accomplished quickly and efficiently. His father set an example, but he didn’t finish it. Really, he needed his young 16 year old son's help with the rest of the world because people don’t  _ bow down _ . They try to escape the inevitable, fleeing from a new era the only he will bring. Fire cleanses and makes life anew. 

The people will cooperate, if they don’t…

He just has to chip away the blocks of what they are. Like the Walls of Ba Sing Se

And walls will  _ break _ .

They will  _ yield _ .

Letting in whatever plagues the outside, infesting the inside. Corrupting and letting the Nation take over. The Earth King will realize he is a weak ruler, letting his people fall into the enemies clutches and into the maw of the Dragon of the West. He will suffer for the rest of his life. 

Maybe perform  _ seppuku _ when his honor and duty is taken. A warrior's effort, a grand gesture of mercy.

But what does the Earth Kingdom know about honor? They are stubborn to a fault and have no morals. Stubborn to see what is right for them. To see what's necessary. Like the Earth King and his Dai Li, pretending the war is below them and non-existent. Using the trick that his people taught them years and years before..

Puppets will be free of their strings at some time.

Really, someone else would disembowel him to you know,  _ place him out of his misery _ . He can’t do it himself. No one has the gall to die by their hands except the Fire Nation. Betrayed by their lord, oh, he how he would like to see the citizens crash and burn. 

A toothy smile plastered onto his face, yes, that would be so much easier. Rock may be stubborn, but with enough pressure, they will fracture and fall, scattered petals made over. Into a glorious dream, that his father mistakenly  _ abandoned _ . Strong leaders like him will rise, then again so will Earth. 

But water...

They fell easily. They may have adapted but the Southern Water Tribe lost everything. Their water benders, culture, and homes. All forgotten ashes. Afterall, take what they are and nothingness follows. They won’t rise into their sister tribe. The North… will be dealt with soon. But details, details.

Azulon snapped out of his ponderings to see the moon illuminate the halls, where a figure peeked out of the doorway. 

Azulon narrowed his eyes. Where are the guards when you need them? Really, such incompetence, not guarding the royal family and future heirs chambers. Where his children are lying asleep.

No matter. The intruder will be dealt with by his own hand. He flexed his fingers. Lightning and fire thrumming in his veins, aching to be released. They will be dealt with the highest punishment. Severely. 

He might be old but he is never to be underestimated.

Crept closer to have a good strike. Claws willing to tear down prey with fire slithering around his fingers. 

The shadow was too small to be a threat, yet small things can be catastrophic, but upon closer inspection, the figure morphed from shadowed to red robes, too pale skin and distinctive gold eyes. It was Zuko. 

With tears in his eyes.

What troubled him at this late hour? Was it because he stopped calling him “Grandfather” (no doubt Ozais doing). When that time came, Azulon was slightly saddened that he stopped. It was nice having a family member treat him like a normal person (ha) instead of royalty. Seems like his own family was stuck living like peasants. Why did it matter that a small eight year old boy, who somehow wormed his way into his battered, cold heart stopped calling him familial names? He is the Fire Lord.

He dealt with his fathers, his wife, his brothers and sisters untimely demise. He can deal with titles that commoners use…

When it was revealed that the child couldn’t sleep, an unknown weight went off his shoulders. But why does it bother him? 

He doesn’t have time for his emotions. 

He thought he got rid of them years ago. Those pesky things are traitors to his mind, clouding his judgement.

He doesn’t care. His grandson needs him. He will deal with the traitors later. When Azulon peered down to try and see his Little Sun's eyes, he was greeted by a head turn and slight shaking. He thinks he is being punished? For what? He knows fear, relishes it even. But on his grandson's face. 

No. Unacceptable. Especially since he appears to be afraid of him. No cub should fear their kin.

He picked the small body into his arms, encircling his arms around him. Just like he did for his two sons, once upon a time. The child curled into him, snuggling into his robes, sniffling. Stroking his hair and carrying him towards the tea room. Good tea makes everything better. It will cheer up his grandson and himself. Perhaps the answer will be a simple family outing under the Midnight Suns light.

Azulon knelt by the  _ kotatsu, _ placing his grandson on the soft  _ zabuton _ underneath. He prepared a fresh pot of jasmine tea by heating up the water and placing the leaves in a certain order.  _ Good tea is not rushed _ , Illah always said  _ it has to be treasured and taken care of _ . She passed that philosophy onto Iroh and himself. If only she passed it onto his youngest. But the past is past. His late wife made the best in him. The best was beneath all the blood and terror he inflicted. But it was there. Even though she is missed greatly, he treasured their tea moments together. Tea reminds him of who he wanted to be, but destiny disallowed his feelings. Where he was not Azulon, the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. 

Just Azulon, a 17 year old, who was in love with the tea master's daughter

. 

Azulon, who wanted to make the Fire Nation thrive by expansion.

Azulon, who did illegal things when his father forbade it. 

Azulon, who appreciated the arts, but had to  _ hide before it's all gone… _

Now he will be the caring grandfather to his grandchild, serving tea and sweets.

Not Fire Lord Azulon, who was almost 18 when he was crowned.

Not Fire Lord Azulon, who made sure he was worthy of Crown Prince by getting rid of the competition.

Not Fire Lord Azulon, who slaughtered and decimated thousands of lives with a flick of his hand.

Heh. Who would have thought? So many masks to pick over the years.

Besides tea time and sweets will be a good conversation to have.

……………………………………

The smell of tea reminds him of Uncle. Even though it's actually hot leaf juice, it was nice to be with grandfather. He even brought  _ dorayaki.  _ His favorites. How? Usually servants do that, but Grandfather doesn’t play by the rules at all. Sort of like Azula, but it was nicer. No burning flesh or verbal barbs are traded, just comfortable silence.

“How come you can’t sleep?” The stillness was ripped part as Zuko blurted out, but internally flinched at the question.

Azulon just chuckled. He seems… relaxed

“As Fire Lord, there are many things to do. Especially since the expansion is going well, colonies are accepting their place as one with us.” The response was strange, but then again adults are weird.

“So, you can’t sleep because you’re happy?” 

“In a way… you will understand when you are older.” Yep, adults are weird. “Since I was young, I was alert and ready at a moment's notice. In the army, there are no mistakes to be made. Or your life will be the price. Besides, our family's sacred mission is to spread with the sun. But people are so strong willed these days, it's very irritating.”

“But isn’t that a good thing? Although we’ll show them our greatness, isn’t that a human thing to do.”

Some part of him shifted uncomfortably at that. 

In his grandfather's eyes, a gleam appeared. It was swirling with fire, that he could almost hear the crackle and roar of flames. The flames inside glow with power over people. One can go in and not return the same. A very not nice smile contorted his face. Making the perfect mask that made Zuko's heart thud. 

“Oh, my sweet child, what does it mean to be human?”

Before Zuko could answer, the power disappeared and Azulon continued.

“Change is the answer. People fear change in their ways. That's why they fight back. Bite as they may, avoid it, or deny, people will follow on. It's just a matter of time. Almost a 100 years, they will lay down and accept their fate. After all, don't you want to lead a more acceptable group? Ones that are not wary of what you are.” 

Azulon paused at this. Looking over his tea cup, into Zuko's gold eyes. With a questioning glance, he inquired.

“Zuko, what are we?”

Zuko may not understand adults but he knows when they are testing him.

“The Children of Agni?”

“Yes, and what did Agni give us that is inside and out?”

“Fire.” Oh

The gleam was back. The young boy did not like that gleam, it almost reminds him of Azula but more…  _ dragon  _ than human.

“Along with change, is difference. We create fire, we don’t need a source of it, like water and earth. Fire comes from the breath. Our fire is inside us. The sun always rises and with it everything it touches is ours. Believe it or not but we are outcasts. Many think of us as unnatural, we burn but do not wound. We approach with rage and anger, but it's our life. Now the world will burn alongside us.”

The tea was finished but the gleam flickered.

A silent relief.

But Zuko feels as though the fire started somewhere else.

He loves his grandfather, but he remembers that a shell of an old man is not to be trifled with.

“Come along, it's late.”

“But I can’t go to sleep.” What if  _ they _ come back.

The old Fire Lord smiled. “How about I tell you a story?”

Zuko nearly burst into tears. It felt so long the last time a story was told by his Grandfather. “Will it have a happy ending?” He can’t stand to have any more adult talk. He doesn’t want to lay down and die in the hands of the  _ onryō.  _

Azulon considered for a moment, but the look on his grandson's face made the answer for him.

“Yes.”

Zuko got up and took the plates from the table. Might as well enjoy a midnight snack during this time. Grandfather even shot him an appreciative nod. He smiled back giddily. It would be such a waste to perfectly good  _ dorayaki _ . He doesn’t want the servants to be hurt by the amount of work in the morning.

The old man held out his hand towards him. Taking the hand that was offered, he looked back at the table to see what was left. 

The only things left behind were the cups of tea and the ghosts of bad dreams.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Wow, over a 100 kudos! Thank you so much! I have a story planned and wait until Aang finds out he has to fight a protective, 100 year old man. It's going to be great.  
> I did some research for world building! The Fire Nation will have Japanese, Chinese and Thailand traditions and culture. There will be more to be added. You can look these terms up.  
> Dorayaki: is a Japanese pancake snack that is made of red bean with a filling of sweet azuki bean paste. It was invented in 1914 but I just added it for the fluffiness.  
> Onryō: Is a wrathful spirit. They seek vengeance and are cursed to wander the Earth.  
> Kotatsu: A table that is used traditionally in Japanese families. In this story it was used as a tea room basically.  
> Seppuku: a suicide in which sameris run their sword through the sternum. It has to be performed correctly or immense pain will come.  
> Edit (10/19): Made some corrections and some additions in the notes  
> I might be able to make the next chapter on Friday but idk about my schedule. Having both school and work is hard but at least enjoy this piece of fluff! Hope you liked it.
> 
> Send kudos and don’t be afraid to comment! Until next time!


	3. Of Nightmares and Tea Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my favorites!

Zuko usually loved stories. Especially the ones where the heroes get the happy endings of seeing their families after a very long time. Ones where the gods and spirits aid their companions and chosens into a great battle, where they are the victors of a long battle. Ones where they are not alone in the quest. He is happy that they are not alone.

He hopes Lu Ten has a spirit watching over him too.

And that he comes home soon.

He wants uncle to be here with him, and for them to be a real family again. When father smiled at him as though he is his son, and not as a _burden_. Azula can be his little sister, smiling and calling him ‘ZuZu’ with love and admiration instead of animosity. Where it's them against the world and not at each other.

So Grandfather won’t be lonely when he tells his stories. He tells them as though they were real. Practically boasting with pride as the hero slain the last dragon, fallen by their brothers of Agni flying over the gleaming cities and now whispers in history breathed life into by stories. He tells them as though reliving memories. With nostalgia and wistfulness. Zuko forgot that his Grandfather killed many dragons during his lifetime, as though they were games.

Maybe even missing the feeling of hunting predators with an even stronger one. 

_“If the dragons were still here, I would have taught you the proper way to kill one. It’s really quite easy Zuko,” Grandfather had said one night, a smile that was not there but eyes crinkled in glee, fingers flexing for a kill that has been gone for a long time. Seen but not to be touched. “Their hearts are vulnerable. With the perfect shot, they will burn and fall out of the sky. As they die, storms will brew but take their flames and they'll be out. Oh do not cry, do not be afraid of the storms, my child. Their bodies will make beautiful creations with their deaths. With that technique, that's one way of how to gain lightning and control storms.”_

_“Someday. But not today, I will tell you of the Storm Guards.”_

Honestly Zuko's glad that the old man is with him. So if there are any dragons, Grandfather can beat them. Uncle may have slain the last dragon, but it's his father who did it with ease.

If Uncle Iroh is called the Dragon of the West, then Grandfather must be the Dragon King of the West.

Oh, that's a good name for a play!

It would be a good play. Maybe rivaling _Love Amongst the Dragons_. With the true real life events. But with more intrigue and romance. He’ll ask Grandfather for the details and they’ll perform it together when he has time. Maybe Grandfather will even let him direct it, not like those silly Ember Island players that crash and burn plays as though they were silly toys.

They butcher it every year.

_Ugh._

At least Grandfather agrees that art should be respected and treasured but should not be a priority, in wartime, at least, but maybe when they win.

An old memory of that certain conversation has risen as the pair headed towards his room.

_“Fire is beautiful, Zuko. It sings songs, has any color you can dream of, fueling us. It is us. But it destroys and burns. Currently, we need to teach the world that lesson. It's a very harsh lesson to learn.”_

Indeed, it is a harsh lesson that both Father and Azula won’t let him forget. Usually, it takes a lot of power for a firebender to burn, that to harm them it takes a master. 

And he is the test subject who can’t _defend himself_. 

He nearly recoiled at the warm hand covering his, absentmindedly rubbing the burn on his wrist. The pale skin is slightly pink painted with white streaks due to the best efforts of the healers. Grandfather noticed when the silk moved up slightly, looking at him with a strange demonour, and scowling at the slightly marred skin, but quietly making his way towards the door in his room. Perhaps, he didn’t like the burns if they weren’t his doing? Seems like those who have to care about him hurt him a lot.

Enjoying the good thing while they last, he loved the stories artfully weaved by Grandfather.

Yes, Grandfather Azulons stories were the best. He illustrates words with grace and poise, voice lowers into a sweet venom seeping down but Zuko ignores the part where he relishes the kill. Adults are weirder than girls and that's not a compliment, and he doesn’t even get his Grandfather. The stories are filled to the brim with love and care (despite the scary undertones that lurks beneath) with the regards that someone _cares_. 

Sadly, not all stories do not alway have happy endings. He cries when a family is crushed, both emotionally and physically, when animals are harmed or maimed, when the hero has reached the point of no return. 

He gets really scared of the monsters with _teeth sharp and eyes glowing red._ The ones that crawl with spindly arms with pointed joints and nails unkempt and don’t get you until it's too late. Was the dragon in his dream looked like what it was supposed to be, if the dragons were still here? Is that why they went extinct? Because the broken bodies of the Fire Nation will fall down the gullet of the monster, falling yet can not get back up again. The smoke rising phasing out the picture, blurring the lines of desperation and the bluest of skies. They are shown to be mean to the citizens down below them?

If it's true, then he is glad that they are gone.

When the two got to Zuko's room, it was two hours after midnight. His windows revealed the glimmering jewels of the night sky but the interior of the area was dark. No light escaped, making it seem as though there is nowhere to run. He wasn’t scared of the dark. Like a kid would. It was actually comforting to be in the darkness. He felt like a shadow phasing in and out of existence. 

Helps him disappear.

Helps him hide. 

_Afterall, it's what's lurking in the dark that scares him._

He clenches his fist onto Azulons, expecting red eyes peering down on him. Ready to bolt as soon as those eyes are on him. Waiting to pounce.

The older man tightened his grip, a silently reassuring and steadying presence. On his other hand, he lit a bright flame, erupting a plume of flame with a flash of white, before calming down into a calming orange, illuminating the space and surroundings. A warmth filled himself at the sight.

He crawled into his bed, very subtly tossing his covers to the side. By avoiding the red remains of his nightmares, he didn’t want to ruin the spirit for the story by his inability to face his fears. That would be unbecoming of a proper prince. Azula would definitely agree. He made room for Grandfather to sit, even though he placed himself on the edge of the bed, but close enough for solace. 

“What's the story about?” He could barely contain his excitement. 

“It's about immortality and sacrifice. One choice is a curse while the other is punishment.”

“So is sacrifice the punishment? Father said that as Fire Lord, you must do whatever is good for the Nation. No matter what. And if immortality can help with that, how is it a bad thing?”

Grandfather seemed to be taken back by what Father said but the actor's mask was on before he noticed it was there in the first place. Mumbling something about generations being corrupted and idiotic, the man continued.

“Two sides, my sun, but there is another side that people forget. Now, do you want to hear the story?” At Zuko's nod, he added, “then lay down and get comfortable.” Zuko quickly placed his covers over himself and laid down. The nightmares can wait. 

“It's a long one…

_Even in the old times of the Fire Nation, we always had the Sun. The Sun gave us the territories and ownership of the land by where it shone the brightest. But with light comes dark. People die in the storms and tsunamis. When it is dark, it becomes the dead's right to rule. No one had the nerve to defy them. No one helped. We had the gift of fire, but people of other lands were wary of us._

_Unnatural._

_Too bright._

_Too passionate._

_Too ambitious._

**_The land is cursed._ **

_The Avatar was supposed to bring balance but they are of other nations too. They didn’t succumb to Fire easily. They didn’t help with the restless spirits._

_One man had enough. He didn’t want people to die. He wanted to live as people, not as the undead. For people to rule the night as well as the day. For the storms to just stop. A noble endeavor during that time._

_Alone, he journeyed to a library where a lone spirit walks (or even flys) with his books. Forever hoarding his knowledge from those who dare take it. But the spirit will not refuse more knowledge if it was given to him._

_Even though the man had nothing to give, he was clever. He found a feather on the ground near the entrance of the library and using dyes he crafted from flowers, he gave the spirit the feather, claiming that it came from an exotic bird. The spirit accepted the gift and left him to explore the library._

_Countless nights and days have passed in a forbidden library, but on the 1000th day, he had found something. Something that will transform the dead into something else. To be protectors instead of tormentors. Something that will change the land that they were living in. For the ability to manipulate the storms is something to be desired. Bring rains to a drought, stopping and predicting the mighty rains and bringing the defense of lightning._

_Bringing sunlight forever so we can rule as mortals._

_To become a Storm Guard._

_But there was an exception to this. Someone has to be touched by Agni himself, or else the lightning will corrupt them. Someone has to live forever to be the vessel of the storm guards and guide them into whatever they so wish. To be the Sun themselves, to rule over wherever the Sun touches._

_He prayed to the Sun, hoping that it would be responded to._

_And the Sun answered by making his eyes gold and the gift of spirit sensing._

_In the library, he also learned of a potion that grants a man's soul immortality. To live forever._

_At first, the plan is to give the potion to the people the elixor. For them to live and never to die, thus no more restless spirits to fear, to be wary of._

_As he thought about it more, the more the man doubted the reasoning. The cost of having many being immortal can make the spirits angry. And the price will be paid in more blood. Someone also has to be touched by the Sun. In order to maintain the same control over the storms and spirits. So others won’t have to seek the knowledge in this cursed library, the man decided to have the potion to himself._

_When the man went back home, the man's spirit twisted the Earth bound wraiths into The Storm Guards. No mercy was found in the transformations of demons on Earth. They can not move into the ancestral realm no longer._

_Under the sun's spirits command, they made the storms vanish and other restless spirits move on._

_But The Great Spirits are not to be messed with. The Sun may have given his blessing, but not without reason._

_It's punishment._

_As the years went on, the body grew old. Skin started to peel off his bones and overtime his soul became corrupted with the elixir. What tasted like the sun, now had a bitter, acid slowly corroding the humanity within the man. Two sides, a dark spirit and the man fighting over the body._

_His soul was fine in a way that was not human but a spirit either he was better. He was perfection, a flawless mess of flesh that rots, veins that do not pump any life giving essence. Just a moving, walking '_ ~~**man** ~~ _'. He, or it, was clever and didn’t want to waste away. For to be erased means to be forgotten, to be forgotten means the achievements he had made will be all for nought. Sacrifices had to be made. No more, no less. Only one. The Sun on Earth demanded that young men would be presented to the sun and slaughtered. The soul of the corrupted will then transfer to that young body. No longer that young man's soul will be there. Only the Sun will inhabit. Overtime, young boys turned to girls as well. It didn’t matter. The Sun on Earth was now an entity, cursed to roam forever. No body, just an immortal soul. No use, just fallen cogs on an non living machine. No matter the time or place or body, it just didn’t matter. The young ones had to give themselves to their leader and protector. It was an honorable, yet terrifying death. No one will know you are gone. Perhaps you are floating in a black abyss with no control over your own body. Or you just cease to exist. But where the sun touched, He ruled. Where the storm went, the Storm Guards followed. 400 years have passed and a small human part is still there. The part where the shadows of the sun did not fill. The part where the honor of a young man, who wanted his people to be free of spirits, is still there. The husk of his body was not cremated but buried in a shrine beneath the ground._

_Dead but waiting._

_In a small but desperate attempt to save the young generation from a created monster of the past, he made a ritual for the old soul to abandon the stolen body and into the original. With his servants' help, the ritual was a success._

_In his own body, he locked himself away from the Sun, his source of power, in a tomb. He made his servants bury him alive in his coffin. But before his eternal prison tomb, he told his Storm Guards to waken only if the Fire Nation is in trouble. To remain loyal to the country, and not only to his children. And there, the Storm Guard slept with their promise in mind. Somewhere the Sun King lays but not sleeping, he is awake. Drowning in his failure of what went wrong. He lays screaming, not alive, not human, not a spirit. But a demon._

_The descendants of the Sun were now the future Fire Lords and Ladys, the gold eyes are of the markings of theSun. Both as a warning and a promise to the demon locked beneath the Earth._

The story ended. But Zuko was in tears. 

“Thats horrible! That they buried a man alive, he may have done some horrible things but couldn’t they have found a way?”

Azulon looked at the child. If only he knew…

“Is that man a monster?” Zuko quietly asked, but the sniffles and hiccups clouded the question. 

“Child, everyone is a monster. Even people. The scarier ones are human just like you and I.”

“Because no one can know the difference. The man saved them.”

Azulon gave a half smile. “Yes, he did.” 

The old man got up and tucked Zuko into bed. He gave him a soft caress of the cheek, and a smile before turning to leave. 

He stopped at the doorway, without turning back. 

“Zuko, remember. Never forget what honor and sacrifice is. Contrary to your Fathers belief, they are different from each other.” 

With a wave of his hand, the fire went out, and he was gone.

The eight year old wrapped himself into the blankets, with no nightmares in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who saw The Nightmare Before Christmas Reference? 
> 
> Anyone? 
> 
> I couldn’t resist. 
> 
> Okay, few things: Usually I will update every Friday but I do need some research for this fic. So it might be soprodic of two weeks. Again, this has worldbuilding and some cultural differences for when the Gaang comes. Mostly this will be about the Fire Nation Royal family and the dysfunctional yet weirdly wholesome relationship between Azulon and Zuko. Azula lovers, she will have her time in the spotlight because she is my main bitch… but first I need her to be a loving sister, cruel, then worse to damn right terrifying we all know and love, finally redemption. This is the amount I will give without giving too much away… Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Guess whose POV is next???? Come on guess!
> 
> Please give comments and Kudos! They give me life <33333


	4. Never Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozai schemes, but it doesn't go as planned. Buckle in guys. it about to get dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Im late with this but school was a hassle and exams were killing me. I will post another chapter the week after Christmas and as an early Christmas present, here's another chapter! Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Ozai doesn’t get his father. 

Ever since he was young, he tried to impress the old man. Leading ruthless campaigns (yet failing), improving his firebending, getting involved more with the war effort, pathetically searching for the Avatar (that didn’t go so well, in his father's eyes). Even showing off Azula, proving he can produce an heir worthy of the Dragon Throne. But it wasn’t enough is it? ( _ He will always be second _ ). Although, the apple of Azulons eye will forever be Iroh, that doesn’t mean that he will be Fire Lord. Lu Ten is an only child, having one heir to the throne is not suitable for a royal family. On the other hand, he himself has two. His wife can bear more children for insurance of the Throne. Although he already has an advantage over the other.

Fire Lord Azulon is fond of his son, he reluctantly admits (That's not right. Why does the stain in the family's name get his Father's love?), to a point where the boy is comfortable calling him ‘Grandfather’. Whereas, himself and his family are supposed to call the Fire Lord by his full title.

He berated Zuko for this, but his father somehow managed to find out about it. Breaking the control over his own family and Zuko still spends time with his ‘Honorable Grandfather’, they both seem to be close. Closer than Lu Ten, but still is troublesome. Father has gone senile with age, a true Fire Lord will insist on being powerful by name. Father is getting old, but not quick enough. He still has the power to  _ put him down _ . 

Soon he has to go. 

And a stronger heir will take his rightful place. 

Maybe a plan is an order for power.

And his weak, disgraceful son may be the key to that power. Afterall, the old fool will listen towards his sweet, precious grandson. 

Zuko still has a need to make his own father happy.

But first, he needs him out of his father's grasp, and to do that he has to pay special attention to their activities since Azulon hoards the boy.

Even from his mother. Although he hates that the boy is soft from her influence, he can use this. If only she can agree to this scheme. She is an ambitious woman, she might be of use to him.

As if Agni had heard his calls, his  _ darling _ wife appeared from the doorways. Face pale, and hazel eyes subtly flicking from hallway to hallway as if she lost something (or someone). Hands twitching and lips pursed. Her footsteps growing in an uphill panic as she clumsily crashed into him.

Once she noticed who she so rudely bumped into, fear flooded her face but quickly the actress mask was slipped on. Hiding her fidgeting hands, subtilty slipping them into her robes. Nice to know that she doesn’t like to show weakness.

“Honored Husband. I apologize for my insolence. I did not notice where I was heading, it was my mistake. I must be going.” She tried to quickly slip away, but Ozai was having none of that. His arm wrapped around her waist, the gesture would have been romantic in other circumstances, but it's true intent is more threatening than loving. 

Ozai leaned towards her ear. Whispering so no servants can hear this delightful conversation.

“And where do you think you are going? Looking for the boy that is? You are never getting him back from  **him** .”

She shrugged off his hold violently, whirling to face him with the grace of a predator, eyes alight with ambition and fear. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The words couldn’t have been hissed more with poison, he needs it more than ever.

“You know what I’m talking about. Zuko and my father, they are close. You know it's dangerous to your children. Especially poor, innocent Zuko,” He nearly purred at the words. “Since my father knows how to make good little toy soldiers out of his own family. And he will get what he considers his by any means necessary.”

“He cares and protects him in a way that you can’t. When Azula comes to ‘play’ with him, unlike you your father leads her away instead of encouraging her to harm her own family. Why should I listen to you?” 

The words would have sounded convincing but the confidence lacked. He held her arm tight with the slight menace of fire lighting his palm. She instinctively flinched. 

Good. She needed to learn when to bite her tongue.

“The boy is not a good firebender, and he prefers swords over firebending. Azulon will get rid of him or make use of him some other way because he is too soft. If not now, then soon. The crown will fall on Iroh, his favored son. Lu Ten will get married and have children. Children that will be heirs to the throne. Leaving nothing for us. And where exactly does that leave us? Dead as ashes on the ground because we are of no use to him. I know my father, he will get what he wants. Whatever is between him and his treasures are annihilated to a point of no return. Your precious son will burn either way like the rest of us.” She flinched at that. Time to end this.

“Unless you do something about it.”

Ursa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

“And what would you have me do?” 

Hm. Resigned yet right to the point. Just what he needed.

“Kill him. Your mother knew how to use poisons from herbs and plants, correct?” She flinched. He smiled with false benign.“That skill might fall on you. There is a book in the old catacombs, it contains the ingredients of a potion, called ‘the Red Death’. One that will make a powerful firebender fall to his knees, his heart will stop beating, fire will extinguish. I will be Fire Lord no matter what,” Ozais smile turned sinister. “And Father will finally see what I accomplished, before  _ death _ finally comes to claim him.”

Ursa looked distraught, more or less hesitant about letting the old man die, Ozai nearly scoffed at the distress on her face; humble beginnings can not comprend cutthroat politics. Why else will the servants be of use? They already learned that they are of use in other areas. People are made to rule and be ruled. The Nation conquers more and more until the flames are satisfied.

And his flames will not be satisfied yet. Not until he gets what is denied to him by birth.

The slow descent of resignation that settled on his wifes features made him bare his teeth. Finally she sees the obstacle.

“If I poison the Fire Lord, what will happen then? Towards the children. Zuko will be heartbroken, of course. And Azula…”

“They will both be in my care. They are heirs to the Dragon Throne.”

That broke her facade. “But they are mine too!”

With that outburst, he grasped her throat, eyes gleamed with malicious intent and hands threatening to snap her neck.

“No they are not. You revoked that right as soon as you married me. Zuko may be yours and exactly worth as much but Azula's clearly a worthier heir. The ‘Fire Lord’ will soon realize that I am power, more of Agnis incarnate. Do you think someone will save you? No, Azulon will fall, and luckily you will not be disposed of.”

“My lady, Fire Lord Azulon would like to speak with you.” 

A servant chimed near the pillars, leading towards the garden. After she spoke, Ozai sent a fireball her way, nearly hitting her in the chest. The servant ducked but immediately bowed her head, fearfully. Hands forming a submissive bow. 

Good, the servants knew who was the real Dragon.

He leaned closely to his wife's ear and whispered

“Do your work Ursa, do not disappoint me.”

With that he walked out, head up high with the arrogance of a man who knows his plan will work.

………………………….

Ursa never asked for many things in life. A simple marriage and a man who actually loves her more than power. A humble living, with an honest job and equal opportunity to raise children. Ozai was none of those things.

The royal family were as flawless as they are ruthless. The hissing the biting, it gets overwhelming but Ursa is an actress. And as an actress She hides her face; masking hurt, righteous rage that no one can see (oh, but how her husband knew her. The claws of dragons are inescapable that has minimal chance of survival.)

But Azulon was a puzzle. He hides but he shows it in the worst ways. 

When she met Azulon, he radiated power and grace in her home. Her parents taught her that the Fire Lord belonged to the Sun and the real descendants of dragons. She refused to believe that when she saw it. And saw it she did. The sense of unease when she met him, was indescribable. A man who committed atrocities as though they were common chores. A man who slaughtered dragons as though they were a game. When she was betrothed to Ozai (honestly that was Azulons biggest sin), she had no idea what was lurking beneath the surface.

It got worse than she expected.

When he got news of any dead Earth and Water Battalions, he smiled. It was a nasty, charming smile that  _ she can’t get out of her head.  _ He is sadistic and cruel, but what can she do. The plans to make Earth benders eat their own element and stake on metal chairs made her sick, water benders battling to the death in dry conditions that they had to get creative to survive (the story of a woman who escaped by using the blood of the guards. He used that to twist the minds of his own people). Branding men, women and children by back. Hanging corpses off hooks to show what happens when you don’t obey. 

What was worse he actually did it.

Why did Ozai make Azulas name  **his** fucking legacy.

What she didn’t get was that when her son was born, he had a smile. It may have been the pain dulling her vision before she passed but as he was cradling the small baby she saw a small, miniscule sight of a human under the layers of bloodlust and viciousness. He was almost the same with Azula but with Zuko… 

She shook her head. 

No.

This was the chance to end his reign of terror, get Zuko and Azula out of this charade of false lies. The royal blood may flow through their veins but light outshines the dark. 

She will make her great grandfather proud. 

But they are family by law, and if she was caught. Well, a death by a thousand cuts would not suffice.

Should Ozai’s words be trusted? Honestly she was literally and figuratively walking in circles due to the conundrum in this moral dilemma. Perhaps a sign will answer her prayers or at least a sign that will make Ozais words truthful.

Ursa checked the obscured catacombs (what a beautiful lie that the palace walls hide. Along with the multiple deaths and destruction comes the lie that the Fire Nation can be defeated by external forces. It takes an inside job to cripple the defenses. Should The head of a hydra viper be cut the rest of the body will cease to exist). After a few minutes dragged along hours and sure enough a small black book with a gold inlay carving with a little blossom flower at the bottom. Strangely, it was staged on a pedestal, no quest required searching for a long lost treasure. Too easy…

Easier for the job, basically laying down with its belly up. Or with exposure of the neck.

The concoction was easy to make. The most common ingredients were parts of the  _ naree ramphueng  _ and _ azaleas.  _ For the former can stop the heart as though it was nothing, just a natural death. And the azaleas for covering up the scent. Mixed with a jasmine blend it will become a wonderful tea with a deadly package. 

Hopefully, erasing any suspicion of an assassinatioon (or attempted assination if this goes sideways). After all she did what she had to do, she can’t think, just act. Quickly and effortlessly.

The tea was brewed and set up in a perfect, none out of place tea set. Preparing mentally and psychologically for mind games, Ursa took a deep breath and headed towards the garden where her beloved father and son lay under the cherry tree.

‘1, 2, 3 here we go.’

……………………………………………

“Ah, Ursa you made it,” At the mention of his mother, seemling out of nowhere Zuko popped out of his grandfather's arms with a big smile and enthusiastic wave. Seeing the domestic scene with him and Azulon made Ursa’s heart a little lighter. They look like a normal grandchild and grandparent.  _ He looks so happy _ . 

Maybe once, they could have become a normal family. But they can not. Steeling herself for the hurtful reality, she brought the tea down, with a respectful bow of her head. Giving the tea to Zuko, she gave him a warm grin before Azulon gestures to her to sit across from the two. 

_ As though he didn’t want her anywhere near Zuko.  _

“I was just speaking with Prince Zuko about his training with Master Paindao. Seems like he is flourishing just like these cherry blossoms.” Zuko beamed with pride at the praise and quickly sat next to his grandfather. 

Ursa doesn’t like the fact that Zuko goes to the real threat.

“Mom, Grandfather even taught me how to incorporate fire into my swords. I made a new kata!” The pride leaked out of his voice and the child within him emerged.

Ursa had to smile at that as she tried to gather her child into her arms. Before the monster sets his claws around him again. 

That didn’t work so well. 

The barley misted smoke curled between his lips the dragon coiled around its treasure with a hint of  _ painwillkill. _

“Now Ursa, let us enjoy the tea you have prepared for us and Zuko will tell you of his misadventures in sword fights.” The young woman startled over the sound of a rasp, expecting a hiss (or a roar of flames to scorch her face) but instead heard the clink of cups. Raising her cup (she sets two cups a lethal amount of poison. Better be safe than sorry), eyes peering over the rim she sees the two Imperials take a sip. 

A couple of minutes had passed and the Fire Lord was giving her ‘a look’. There was a sense of unease going off but she doesn’t know exactly what it was. Could he…? Impossible. That poison can extinguish a fire bender's flame, it will so much take time for an Imperial firebender that there is a period of time where they fall sick. Nonetheless, there is a small enough possibility that the inner flame can burn it out. Azulon is old, the inner flame ages along with the user as long as the embers burn, the fire lives. 

What she expected was Azulon to fall ill, excusing himself into bed. Making the concoction within his body flow much easier towards his heart and vital organs.

What she didn’t expect was Zuko to breathe unevenly. 

Panic flooded her mind as the breaths turned into wet, hacking coughs that ash came out of his mouth. Her son's eyes were glassy, an unmoving doll with a too pale face and wide eyes covered with a shine of unshed tears. Ursa grasped her boy into her arms, if she focused a little while longer, she would have noticed a flicker of victory within Azulons eyes. 

“No this wasn’t supposed to happen,” a breathless whimper escaped her lips. “This wasn’t the plan.” she laid the boy down on her lap, elevating his positions, trying to make breathing easier.

“Looks like my grandson is sick. Perhaps some tea should be in order.” 

Ursa twirled in her position, a snarl on her features. 

“What. Have. You done?” She most definitely hissed. Azulon most definitely switched the cups when she wasn’t looking. Only one wasn’t filled with poison and she gave it to Zuko. 

“No, Lady Ursa, I think the real question is what have you done?” A prim reply with a raised eyebrow makes her want to finish the job by strangling him. He swallowed the tea with mild distaste. “You think that I don’t know an assassination attempt when I see one. An unsuccessful one at that. Having two cups poisoned while you act poorly as though you consumed it. Please, have some class.” 

Red nearly stained her vision. 

“That tea was meant for you. If you knew, then you would have poured it out.”

“It would have been rude,” the not nice smile appeared, “besides, who did you think planted the book with the actual ingredients?”

His companions' blood ran cold. 

The old man rubbed his temples in a  _ put upon _ way and sighed. The only unsettlement was the tea cup on his hand was boiling but the expressionless mask was on.

“My own family. Thinking I was old to succumb to that very poison that was used to nearly assassinate me 50 years ago? Hmh, thought they will get creative.”

Zuko's slow heartbeat would not agree with him.

Azulon continued as though his grandson did not get poisoned; as if Yama wasn’t draped in a dreary presence. Eager to take the sunshine within his dark, the sky literally became dull and void. No tears pouring out yet still has a charge of  _ danger getou _ t. No hope. 

“You should know that Ozai has no idea what he is getting into. Iroh is my child, my firstborn who has almost accomplished what I didn’t. Conquering the impenetrable city, our glorious nation will finally rise and Ozai lacks the discipline to lead the people. I planted that book as a test and you  _ failed _ ,” The cup of tea shattered in his hand. Eyes narrowed in cold calculation with care. “But you also gave me an idea. Rooting out the weeds, filling the garden with joy.”

The phrasing was off. There was more to that sentence. 

“W-what exactly does that mean?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oph don't worry. Zuko will be okay, just some trauma to go through when he gets up.

**Author's Note:**

> Psst, hey you should comment. Really this is my first fic, and there is so much potential in the culture and world building that I want to explore in A:TLA! Hopefully I keep my updates steady since I have college midterms. But let me know what you think!


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